


you got the world but baby at what price

by mystiqves (cat_tier)



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon, Coda, Fix-It, M/M, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-05 22:49:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1835059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_tier/pseuds/mystiqves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lot can happen in ten years. </p>
<p><i>Except</i>, thought Erik, <i>nothing did.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	you got the world but baby at what price

A lot can happen in ten years.

_Except,_ thought Erik, _nothing did._

 

It had been ten- no; it had been eleven years since Erik had seen Charles. Eleven years since the beach in Cuba, when everything had gone to shit.

“I want you by my side,” he had said, overcome with emotion and _no, this cannot be happening_ and _Charles._

“We’re brothers, you and I,” Erik remembered saying. Was that right? It was all fuzzy now, it seemed so far away, buried deep in his memories, but not forgotten.

And then Erik left, and that was that.

Charles could have bled out on that beach, for all Erik knew, but he didn’t turn back. He told himself, _I don’t care, his views will get him nowhere anyway, good riddance,_ and a million other worthless excuses. It wasn’t until Erik dug into his pocket and found the small bullet covered faintly in blood that he realised he had made a stupid mistake, and it was far too late to turn back.

“Where’s your telepath friend?” Emma had asked when they arrived to save her, looking slightly smug as she inspected her nails.

“Gone. Left a bit of a gap in my life, if I’m honest,” Erik had replied, pushing away the thoughts of cradling Charles on the beach, feeling the strength slowly leaving him.

_Maybe,_ he had told himself then, _if I try and replace him, I’ll forget all about him._

Of course, Erik knew he was lying to himself, but it was worth a try.

 

Eleven years later, Erik was broken out of prison by a man with bone claws and dodgy hair, a boy who was strangely familiar somehow, and Charles.

_Charles_.

Except, Erik hardly had time to react before Charles’ fist connected sharply with his cheek bone, sending Erik slumping to the floor of the elevator.

Erik wiped at his mouth, checking for blood, thinking, _he always was stronger than I thought,_ and ignoring the pain to quip, “Nice to see you too, old friend.”

At that, a clear plethora of emotions crossed Charles’ face. Hurt, confusion, affection, more hurt, and Erik didn’t know what to think.

It was true that a lot could happen in ten years, but seeing Charles like this - frankly, looking like shit with dark rings under his eyes, creased clothes and hair much longer than Erik had ever seen it - it felt like ten years had suddenly reduced to nothing. It felt like taking a breath after years of drowning, just like he had been when Charles saved him with a whisper of “you’re not alone,” which reverberated around Erik’s skull like a prayer.

Perhaps it was the high tension, or the shock of seeing Charles here, of all places, but either way, it was only starting to dawn on Erik that Charles was _unharmed._

Since that day on the beach in Cuba, Erik had always wondered, _what had become of Charles?_ Was he dead or merely wounded? A bullet into the spine was never good news, but here he was, upright and unharmed, at least on the surface.

He stared at Charles, the man who had once been his entire world, and lifeless blue eyes stared back at him.

It made Erik wish he was still stuck inside the Pentagon.

\--

Traveling 1,000 miles above ground in a flying metal contraption, Erik had the advantage. However, being stuck in a plane with three men he neither liked nor trusted in the slightest is not the best possible outcome. There’s Hank, who he hasn’t seen since 1962, Logan, who is apparently from the future (either that or he was having a particularly bad acid trip, it was the 70s after all) and Charles, who seemed constantly drunk these days, and would not catch Erik’s gaze.

All these details paled in comparison to the newfound information that _Charles didn’t have his powers anymore._

“Freeze them, Charles,” Erik had shouted urgently as they broke out of the Pentagon.

But Charles had simply replied, with a pained expression, “I can’t.”

The plane journey was tense, to say the least, but Erik couldn’t help himself sneaking glances across the table at Charles.

_What happened to the bad pick-up lines in bars, the comforting touches to Erik’s chest or shoulder or leg, and above all, what happened to the light in Charles’ eyes?_

\--

“You abandoned me!” Charles’ voice shook and Erik’s skin burned where Charles gripped tight into his shirt. “You took her away, and you abandoned me.”

He sounded wrecked, destroyed, and mostly just lost. It was then that Erik realised, _I did this to him._

_I left Charles - my best friend, my brother, the man I love – to die on that beach._

Erik’s eyes pricked, and tears threatened to appear, but he blinked them away. Charles had lost _everything_ and it had broken him.

Instead of breaking down, or kneeling to gently cup Charles’ face and whisper _It’s okay_ , Erik turned to anger instead. It was a default now, reverting back to how he had been before Charles taught him that there was another way.

_Without Charles, Erik was back to square one._

Erik surged forward; pushing Charles back against the plush blue chair until he was trapped against Erik’s chest, their faces inches apart. Seething with anger, their surroundings started to rattle and Erik saw a glass crash to the floor out of the corner of his eye, spraying whiskey across the interior of the plane. When Erik exhaled slowly onto Charles’ skin which was so close to his own, the plane made a dangerous sideways tilt. He heard a frantic shout of “Erik!” from the cockpit.

“ _I_ abandoned _you_?” Erik asked incredulously, his voice fuelled by anger and pain. “You abandoned us all, Charles.”

At that, Charles flinched, instinctively trying to escape as Erik forced him impossibly further back against the chair, his rage building. “We were supposed to protect them.”

Charles didn’t reply, he simply pushed Erik back and slinked away to the cockpit, his face a mask void of emotion.

“So you always were an asshole then,” Logan remarked, lighting up a cigar.

Erik frowns, slumps down into a nearby chair and tries to keep the waves of emotion under control.

\--

Charles reappeared later, sitting back in that blue chair in the corner of the plane when Erik emerged from the tiny lavatory. He grimaced when he saw Erik, but cautiously avoided the other man’s eyes, as if he was afraid or angry again. Either way, Erik walked straight past Charles, glancing at Logan who was nodding off in another chair. _Now would be the perfect time to have a little chat with Charles._

_Chess. Maybe that would be a good opener,_ Erik contemplated, watching Charles from the corner of his eye as the other man stared out of the window. _It was worth a try._

So Erik carried the chess board over to him, placing it on the table and sitting in the chair opposite.

“Fancy a game?” Erik asked, trying for casual.

“No thank you, I’m not in the mood for games,” Charles replied in a clipped tone, not even bothering to look away from the window.

Erik felt lost. He felt like a young child again, small and broken. He sat in front of the man he loved – if he even dared to think that – but he was entirely unable to even hold a basic conversation with him.

_Then again, you did press him against the wall and shout in his face,_ a voice in the back of Erik’s mind piped up, and he wondered if it could be Charles, but no, Charles can’t use his powers.

Erik had a stunning realisation that, _Charles was basically human._

This man who he had fought with for their kind, this man who he had fought against too, but ultimately they had always had the same ideals, but acted on them in very different ways.

And now Charles didn’t even care, he was hiding.

Erik shuffled forwards on his chair, leaning towards the other man across the table. “Charles, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, softening. As much as he despised what Charles had done – or more, what Charles _hadn’t_ done – he couldn’t just let him suffer.

Charles ignored him for a moment, rubbing his leg as if he was in pain, and Erik watched his jaw clench.

“Charles-“

“Shut up, you bloody _stupid_ man, just shut up,” Charles snapped, almost loud enough to make Erik wonder if they had woken Logan. Those azure eyes fixed on him, full of sentiment, and Erik missed a breath.

“Ten years, Erik,” Charles muttered, flicking his gaze down towards his hands, which absently fiddled with the fabric of his trousers. “I haven’t seen you in _ten years_ , you can’t expect to just turn up and have everything be fine and dandy,” he inhaled sharply before continuing. “And you can’t expect that an apology is going to solve everything, because-“

“I know,” Erik cut him off, irritated. “I’m just saying sorry.”

Charles’ jaw ticked again, and his eyes flicked back up to stare at Erik. “I missed you,” he murmured quietly, privately. “I missed you so _fucking_ much, and Raven too, do you have any idea-“

“Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

“I think you made it pretty clear that you didn’t want me, on the beach in Cuba, so what was the point?”

Erik frowned. “What makes you think that?”

“You left me to bleed out, Erik! I had a bullet hole in my back and you just walked away!” Charles’ voice got louder, shaking as he struggled to hold himself together.

Erik couldn’t stand it any longer.

He wanted to erase all those painful memories, and destroy the terrible misconceptions of that day in Cuba, and above _all that_ , Erik wanted to protect Charles from everything, because he would give anything to not see Charles in this much pain.

“Charles,” he whispered, barely audible even to his own ears, leaning as far forward over the chess board as he could.

Charles stared at him, and for a moment, time stopped, and Erik swore he felt Charles’ presence in his mind, just hovering on the surface. But that would be impossible, surely, so he shrugged it off.

Within barely a moment, Charles had pushed himself up from his chair and stood in front of Erik, staring down at him, eyes bright again, just like before-

“You broke my heart, Erik Lensherr,” he breathed, leaning forward until their faces were inches apart. “But I still can’t resist you.”

Erik froze, holding his breath as Charles climbed into Erik’s lap with an uncanny amount of grace, until he was straddling his hips.

“Charles-“ Erik murmured again, their lips inches apart. His name was a question maybe, or an invitation.

“You bloody idiot,” Charles replied quietly, reaching a hand up to cup Erik’s face gently.

And then their lips met, and Erik felt like he was falling.

Unlike the prior gentleness of Charles’ touch, he put his entire body into the kiss, kissing with all the built up rage and passion that had accumulated over the years.

Their teeth clacked, and Erik relished the pain, moving his hands from Charles’ waist, to his back, clawing at the fabric of his sweater. In turn, Charles’ hands pushed up into Erik’s hair, pulling and twisting as they moved against each other.

Charles pulled away to gasp for air, and Erik moved down towards Charles’ neck, biting and kissing and breathing in _Charles._ Erik moved lower, pushing his shirt and sweater down and biting hard at Charles’ collar bone.

“Erik,” Charles gasped, breath hitching as Erik continued to bite and suck, aiming to leave a mark which only Erik would be able to see. He wanted to hear Charles make those noises again, more, until he couldn’t string together sentences or- “Erik, stop.”

Erik pulled away, breathing hard and feeling insanely aroused from less than five minutes of enthusiastic kissing. He looked up at Charles in confusion. “What, why?”

“Because-“ Charles drew in a deep breath, disentangling his arms from around Erik’s neck and pushing himself away. “I don’t know.”

“But-“ Erik stared at him, baffled. He knew all his emotions were blatant on his face, but what was the point in hiding them at this point?

“No,” Charles murmured, mostly to himself. He avoided Erik’s gaze, as though it was painful to accept the clear _want_ that was reflected in Erik’s expression. “I’m sorry.”

Behind them, Erik heard Logan jerk awake with a noisy snort. Just as Erik was distracted, Charles moved out of Erik’s arms, straightening out his clothes, and went to sit back in his own chair.

“I suppose I could play one game before we land,” Charles muttered, gesturing the board mildly, as if they hadn’t just been making out like horny teenagers.

“Uh,” Erik coughed, flattening his hair with his hands. “Okay then. Maybe I actually stand a chance at winning this time,” he replied. _Two could play that game._

“Hey, why does it smell like testosterone and sexual tension in here?” Logan grumbled quietly, and Erik struggled to keep a straight face.

_What a mess._  
  


      _Raven_

__

Why had she come here? What was the point?

Sure, Mystique was here to kill Trask, but Erik and Charles? She hadn’t expected that, and now there were hundreds of bolts of electricity coursing her body, and it felt like hell.

The last few weeks had also been hell. Everything about this whole mission was hell, and every new piece of information on Trask had made Mystique loath him all the more. Her friends were dead; her lover – the father to her fucking _son_ – was dead, and all at the hands of one man with far too much power. He needed to be killed, and Mystique was prepared to do just that.

So, she seduced the Vietnam general - which was stupidly easy because men are _pathetic_ – and she had just taken down an entire room of military officials in the space of two minutes. Needless to say, Mystique could take care of herself.

But then the two of _them_ , and Hank, burst through the doors - _together,_ which was the most surprising part – and then Charles was crouching down, stroking her hair and telling her that it was all going to be okay, and that they would take care of her, and Mystique felt like Raven again.

“Charles,” she managed to murmur, unable to keep her voice steady as it came out laced with pain and _weakness_.

Everything was happening too fast, because next thing she knew, there was a gun, and Mystique knew she was in danger, so she ran.

And the last thing she heard before she hit the ground was Charles’ voice in her mind screaming for Erik to stop, and Mystique realised nothing had changed.  
  


_         Charles _

 

“The professor I knew would never turn his back on someone who had lost their path.” Logan had called out from behind him, bringing Charles to a stop. “Especially someone he loved.”

And _ouch,_ that one had hurt. It hurt more than Charles could say, actually, especially since Charles hadn’t even yet admitted _that_ to himself. He brought a hand to his temple, a familiar action, but without his powers it was useless. Instead, he rubbed at his forehead, trying to ignore the shouts of _you love him_ which had echoed around his head.

_So much for silence_ , Charles had thought bitterly. _Maybe being basically human came with its own complications._

 

          _Erik_

__

ErIk had found the helmet.

It hadn’t been hard really, breaking back into the Pentagon now that he was _surrounded_ by metal. Those years of meditation and staying calm in solitary confinement had made Erik calmer, and more clear-headed. So, Erik just waltzed right in there and took it.

Now, he stood in the center of the stadium, feeling the metal foundations starting to buzz under his hands as he contemplated just _how_ to make this thing move.

It had been a while – which was an understatement – since Erik had manipulated something of this size, of this weight. Not since the submarine, perhaps, and even that did not compare to the amount of metal in this stadium.

Erik stretched his arms out in front of him, flexing his fingers and concentrating on the metal surrounding him.

_True focus lies somewhere between rage and serenity,_ Charles had said, ten years ago.

The memory of Erik as a child was still raw in his mind; a memory he had often visited whilst stuck in the pentagon, but now didn’t feel the right time to use it. Anyway, his mother would have hardly approved of what he was about to do.

So instead, Erik pulled up memories of him and Charles, over those six months in 1962, the best six months of his life.

_Charles lying in bed, drifting off to sleep as the sun from the open window left small spots of light on his pale skin, Erik sitting out on the lawn outside the mansion, teasing Charles as he tried to teach Sean to control his voice, and those lazy evenings spent in the study, just kissing and staring at each other, and the feeling of safety, and love, that Erik wished he had never run from._

Erik let his mind drift back into those memories, and his eyes rolled back into his skull, drifting closed with the bliss of remembering his time with Charles.

_Focus on that,_ Erik told himself as he felt the metal begin to move and break under his control, _and don’t think about how the man you love hates you now._

And there was the rage, the rage of losing Charles, and anger at himself for walking away _again._

Finally the stadium broke free from its foundations, and Erik levitated alongside the stadium under his control.

_Forgive me for what I’m about to do, Charles, but it’s to secure the future of our kind, I swear._

With the helmet securely in place, those thoughts would never reach.

\--

_“All those years wasted fighting each other, Charles, what I wouldn’t give for a few of them back.”_

_-_ _-_

 

_      Charles _

 

Raven dropped the gun, and Charles breathed a pained sigh of relief.

“He’s all yours, Charles,” she had muttered, walking over to Erik’s unmoving body and roughly pulling that _damned_ helmet off his head. One last favour, perhaps, or maybe Raven did it out of spite, hoping Charles would delve into Erik’s mind and eradicate him, just like that. But they both knew Charles wouldn’t, he didn’t have the heart to kill his best friend- or whatever the hell Erik was to him now.

“I’m never getting back inside your head,” Charles had hissed, back when they had been breaking out of the Pentagon. He had meant it, too, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and right now, Charles was trapped under a huge lump of the stadium, gasping for breath.

So as soon as the helmet was gone, Charles lifted his fingers to his temple and plunged straight into the depths of Erik’s mind.

Being inside Erik’s mind made Charles gasp, and he felt Erik’s eyes flicker open, completely under Charles’ control.

Erik’s thoughts bombarded him and engulfed him, but Charles didn’t care. It felt like stretching his legs after years, it felt like _flying_ , and Charles could feel Erik’s entire being wrapped around his mind.

Fighting to keep his pulse under control, Charles raised a hand, making Erik imitate the action and swiftly move the debris off of Charles lifeless legs. Charles wheezed out a breath, thankful he wasn’t going to be left to die underneath a chunk of metal. Hank rushed to his side, looking concerned and afraid, whilst shooting Erik fearful looks. It was obvious Hank wanted to get out of here as soon as possible but Charles couldn’t bring himself to let go.

_Erik would never hurt me, there’s no need to worry Hank,_ Charles began to project to Hank, but stopped halfway, because that was a total and utter lie. Erik was a different man now, but without the helmet, Charles still had the upper hand. The two men seemed destined to hurt each other in every way imaginable.

He still held his fingers to his temple, letting Erik’s thoughts wash over him. Charles could feel the anger and hurt rolling off Erik in waves, but _If I let him go, he’ll leave me._

_But that was always how it was going to be,_ Charles told himself, and Erik had obviously heard that, because he felt a spike of sadness, of regret.

Choking back a sob, Charles dropped his fingers from his temple, releasing Erik and allowing Hank to help him upright. He leaned on Hank, focusing for the moment on steadying himself.

“If you let them have me, I’m as good as dead,” Erik declared when Charles and Hank stood opposite him on the remnants of the lawn. Charles grimaced, had Erik really thought Charles was going turn him over to the humans?

“I know,” he replied, sounding stronger than he felt.

Erik stared at him for a moment, as if trying to comprehend why Charles was doing this.

Charles stared back.

Out of the corner of his eye, Charles saw Raven- no, Mystique, watching their exchange and keeping her distance. He brushed over her thoughts, and realised sadly that she was planning to leave. It was inevitable, but losing a sister and a friend still hurt.

“Goodbye then, old friend,” said Erik, raising his hands and preparing to make his escape. Charles almost laughed, even after all this, Erik was still a bloody dramatic old sod.

“Goodbye, Erik,” Charles replied, forcing himself to feign nonchalance.

_Goodbye,_ he said again, straight into Erik’s mind. He wasn’t afraid to use his powers anymore, this ordeal had taught him one thing, at least. And anyway, he was Charles Xavier and he had one of the most powerful brains in the world, so why should he hold back?

_Charles,_ the longing and hurt in his thoughts was impossible to ignore.

_It’s okay,_ Charles soothed him, ignoring his own mind telling him _no, no, why are you letting him go again, what are you doing-_

Charles realised he didn't even have to put his fingers up to his temple anymore. Perhaps he was getting stronger.

_I'll_ _see you again soon, Erik,_ Charles thought, before untangling himself from Erik’s mind and retreating.

Charles knew he would see Erik again. There wasn't much in the world that could keep them apart.

And so, Erik left, and Charles watched him go.

After he was gone, Charles turned to Mystique. He knew now there was no point trying to stop her leaving, because she was a woman now, and she could make her own life choices. Hank had obviously realised too, because Charles could sense his sadness without even having to read his mind. It was obviously he still had some – very suppressed – feelings for her.

They watched as she limped away, and Charles knew she’d be fine. She was a survivor.

“Let’s go home, Hank,” Charles murmured, suddenly feeling bone tired. Hank nodded, and they made their way home, ignoring the array of shocked looks from the President and the government officials.

 

Epilogue

_      Charles _

__

Erik came back to Westchester in the afternoon.

Charles knew Erik had always loved a dramatic entrance, so he had expected him to return in the deep of the night, or perhaps the early hours of the morning, where he would throw the doors open with a flick of his wrist to declare his arrival.

Instead, Erik simply knocked on the door with two hard raps. It was just another eventful day in early spring; Charles could sense Hank in the lab, experimenting with some new serum. It was still just the two of, for now, since Logan seemed to be somewhat of a lone wolf, and truthfully Charles was still recovering from the whole ordeal, emotionally and physically. It had only been a few months, after all.

The second shock was just how _normal_ Erik looked when Charles opened the door and saw Erik standing there, the spitting image of how he had looked 1962 with well-fitting clothes and _thank God,_ no helmet.

Erik hadn’t taken the helmet when he left, Charles remembered, and wondered if perhaps that was a small detail that would put them on the right track for the future. After all, Logan _had_ said that Charles and Erik – Professor X and Magneto, rather – were together in the future. _Whatever that meant._

“Erik,” Charles managed, his voice sounding far away, even to himself.

Without the helmet, Charles had so many possibilities in his hands. He could do anything. Charles could delve straight into Erik’s mind and stop him from ever leaving again, because for God’s sake, Charles could not bear any more painful goodbyes.

“Hello, old friend,” the corners of Erik’s mouth turned up into a familiar smirk, his jacket slung over his arm.

Charles grinned, something he hadn’t done in a while, years even.

“Hello,” he replied.

 

\--

 

Charles had always thought that having Erik back at the mansion would feel like a homecoming, but instead, Erik felt like a guest.

Without the students, _without the children,_ Charles thought, choking back a sob as thoughts of their original students - _Sean, Alex, Angel, Armando, Raven_ – started to surface. Charles had to remember that that was over now, but more good things were sure to come.

_Staying optimistic after years of pain and hopelessness,_ Charles realised, _was going to be tough._

After the face off inside the stadium, or what had been the stadium until Erik ripped it apart, Charles had felt a shift. Well, of course there would be a shift, after all that, but for the first time in months, Charles felt like he could breathe easy again.

Of course, there would be things to sort out, paperwork to be signed and of course, students to be found. He had made a promise to Logan, after all. He would remember the names Jean, Scott and Storm, even if he had no idea who those people were.

But finally, Charles had hope. _Finally._

So having Erik back, back by Charles’ side, was a shock to the system. It was familiar, and yet neither of the two were as young and foolish as they had been in 1962, and a lot can happen in eleven years, after all.

Hank, on the other hand, didn’t seem to mind Erik’s presence. Sure, it was obvious he didn’t trust the man, but who could blame him after Erik had nearly killed him. _Poor Hank._

“Fancy a game?” Erik asked one day, floating the chess set into Charles’ study with an air of carelessness.

Charles put his pencil down and wheeled his chair backwards, almost letting out a short laugh when he saw Erik standing there nonchalantly.

“Of course,” he replied, and so they played.

Sometimes, their chess games went on long into the night, often containing short but essential tea breaks or a pause in which Erik and Charles would talk, mostly about the past, but sometimes about the future. It was a pleasant rhythm.

Charles didn’t know if Erik was going to leave again, but he knew he couldn’t stop him, he had tried before, so he didn’t bring up that topic.

\--

It was a warm day in spring, and Erik had been at the mansion for almost a month and a half.

Logan had come back once in that time, acknowledged Erik’s presence with a roll of his eyes and a mutter of _finally_ , and then he had left again. Charles had also started making plans to set the school up again, it felt like a good time, and they had all done enough waiting.

Now, Erik and Charles sat out on the green behind the mansion - Charles in his wheelchair and Erik in a rickety old lawn chair they had found in the basement - with lagers and a bowl or two of snacks. It was a lazy evening, and the sun was low in the sky. _It was perfect, really,_ Charles thought to himself.

But maybe he had projected his thoughts too loud, because Erik looked over at him, his eyes softening as he set his drink down on the grass and leaned over to gently cup Charles’ face, never breaking his gaze.

“You’re beautiful, you know.”

For a moment, Charles froze. It was unexpected, and they hadn’t been this close since- since that plane ride, just before everything went to shite. Charles hadn’t expected Erik to want him, but perhaps secretly he may have hoped.

“I would have preferred stunningly handsome, or dashing, but thank you all the same,” he was trying for confident or even cocky, but Charles had to fight to keep the nerves out of his voice.

_Getting nervous over a bit of physical contact? What are you, a teenage boy?_ It was pitiful really, that Erik still had this effect on him even after so many years.

Over the last month, Charles had not once fully delved into Erik’s mind, but he had lingered on the outskirts, looking and waiting for an opportunity to feel Erik’s mind fully again because, _good lord,_ he fucking missed it.

And now they were so close, mentally and physically, it was hard for Charles to resist leaning in a few inches, whilst also letting himself fall into Erik’s mind. _Erik probably wouldn’t stop him anyway_ , he thought.

“Very funny, Charles,” Erik rolled his eyes, but his hand did not move from Charles’ face.

They stayed like that for a moment or two, just looking at each other, and Charles letting his mind brush against Erik’s.

When Erik leaned in and pressed his lips against Charles’, it wasn’t exactly a shock.

__ _    Hank _

_Finally,_ things were looking up.

Charles had started using Cerebro again, properly this time, and Hank and the professor worked together to locate and find students. As of yet, they hadn’t actually brought any back to the school, but they were certainly much more on track than they had been this time last year. It was hopeful.

In the time between the standoff at the stadium earlier that year and now, Logan had dropped in every now and again, to check on them both. He seemed to sincerely care about the professor, and Hank couldn’t help but wonder what their relationship had been like in Logan’s alternative future.

Raven- or Mystique as she now called herself, turned up once. It had been a shock when Hank came downstairs one morning to see the professor and Mystique sitting up at the table, drinking tea together. It brought back all of Hank’s feelings for her, in a whirlwind off confusion and pain, but Hank pushed it aside. She seemed happy, more content, and Hank often heard her talking about another mutant named Destiny, to which the professor had smiled softly and told Mystique that he was happy she had found someone.

She left within a day, but something told Hank she would be back, sooner or later.

 

Somewhere within all this, Erik arrived. 

 

Charles was happy again, that much was obvious. After spending ten years alone with the professor, Hank could _tell_ how he was feeling; you didn’t need to be a telepath for that.

It may have been because Erik was back, God knows for how long, but the professor seemed pleased to finally have a purpose again, and to finally have _hope_ after all that heartbreak.

It was refreshing.

 

And so, Hank made the mistake of letting his guard down, since _was there really any point in being wary of Magneto anymore_.

So Hank pushed open the door to Charles’ bedroom, expecting to see him studying away quietly at his desk, or reading another of those huge books.

“Professor, I was just on the phone to Alex, and he suggested that maybe we could-“ Hank froze, because _good lord_ that was a lot of skin.

For the first few moments, Hank thought the professor had simply fallen asleep – naked perhaps – without bothering to get under the covers, but- no that was definitely two people, and oh _god_ , was that Erik’s ass?

Letting out an extremely masculine squeak, Hank retreated behind the door, shielding his eyes from seeing anything worse.

“Oh God, I am so sorry, Professor-“ Hank stammered, feeling himself turn bright red.

A scandalised shriek of, “Erik, get off me!” could be heard from the other side of the door, followed by a faint growl from Erik and loud shuffling alongside the clink of belt buckles.

The door was promptly flung open by a flustered – and incredibly angry – looking Erik, who rumbled “Scram, Hank.”

Hank peeked over Erik’s shoulder to see a half-naked Charles struggling to pull himself into his wheelchair with muttered curses.

Needless to say, Hank immediately turned on his heel and left in a daze.

 

Well, at least that answered a few questions.


End file.
